A Series of Torture
by Rian Cutter
Summary: Enter at your own risk... A collection of one shots revolving around me torturing some of the most beloved and hated characters of the series. None will escape my fun.
1. Introduction of Rian

**Since I believe everyone has at least one character they hate in Hunter x Hunter why not let your fantasies come true? Read their stories as I torture them to my heart's content and kill them off one by one… **

**Warnings (for all chapters): Gore, death, torture, swearing, nudity… **

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_Introduction of Rian_

Pale and nimble fingers stroked through his thick shoulder length deep brown hair as Rian descended the stairs. He moved easily in the shadows, reaching the bottom step without a single fumble and moving forward until he too vanished into the darkness. Dressed in a tight fitting black long sleeved shirt, a leather riding jacket, boot cut blue jeans ripped at the knees, and motorcycle boots Rian looked like the kind of person you wouldn't want to mess with. Although he was barely twenty, Rian had such a tense atmosphere around him that he was left to himself majority of the time – just how he liked it.

Halting, Rian turned to the wall on his right and flipped a switch, flooding the large basement room in bright light. The entire underground room was as sterile and white as a hospital would be, the floor covered in pearl colored tiles that sloped down to the lined trio of drains. He had also ensured it would be soundproof so no one could interrupt him as he had 'a little fun' with some guests…

Cracking the knuckles of both hands followed by rolling his neck and loosening the muscles in his shoulders, Rian removed his leather jacket and hung it in the small metal locker tucked into the corner. He had walked clear across the room in the darkness, the staircase he had descended was directly opposite him – the door at the top, the only exit as there were no windows, was closed and locked. Rian was sure any of his precious guests could force it open if given half the opportunity to escape, but he would never give them such an opportunity. Oh no, he was truly looking forward to his fun.

Rian slammed the locker door as he moved on. In the dead center of the room was a metal table, as high as the waist of Rian's five-foot-eleven-inch frame, and ready for use with both thick leather and metal straps. Again his guests would have no trouble breaking free of such meager precautions but Rian had other tricks up his sleeves…

Some feet away from the soon-to-be-blood-covered table sat another, this one in the shape of an L and covered in a white cloth so his tools gleamed cold and silver against it. Walking over to inspect everything, Rian rubbed his hands together. Everything one could possibly imagine that could be used to torture was present, and if not already laid out there were many others neatly packed away in a side room. Rian had just chosen to display his favourites, knowing he would be using them the most often. His guests could take a lot of pain, for which Rian was grateful. Screams, tears, pleading… all of that got on Rian's nerves and he would be forced to end his games early out of frustration.

Not this time.

Oh no, this time he would have his fill of blood and gore. Guest after guest, each one could handle incredibly large amounts of pain. There were many that Rian was looking forward to the most, the ones he was sure would last the longest and give him the greatest challenge of his life!

His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he tried to quill his excitement. There was no reason to get ahead of himself now. His boredom would soon dissipate and then he could bask in the joy and feeling of absolute power all he wished.

Quickly and efficiently pulling his hair back Rian secured the strands with an elastic band he had kept on his left wrist as he leisurely strutted to a second side room. It was different than the one which held his additional tools, for it was where all of his guests currently resided. One by one he would bring them out and have his fun… How Rian was looking forward to those endless seeming days.

Punching in the pin code Rian waited to hear the automatic lock disengage. He walked in between the long double row of cages, peering in to see the collection of guests he had, all of whom were under the effects of a very strong paralytic. Knowing who he had been after made it all the more imperative for Rian to come up with something new and effective. It also had to be long lasting… couldn't have his guests escaping while he was busy now could he?

Sliding both hands into the front pockets of his jeans Rian took his time to pick the first guest he would play with. There were many good choices but he didn't want to set the standard too high. It would ruin the rest of his games and he didn't want that. No… the perfect starter – _that_ was what Rian wanted.

Pacing evenly, taking his time to examine each one individually, Rian stopped when he reached the third cage on the left. Inside was the huddled form of a black haired boy. The spikey strands were tipped with green and he was folded in on himself, though he continued to shake against the unrelenting cold metal of the walls and floor. A smile, dark and cruel, spread over Rian's face but he forced himself to move on. That boy was a treasure, best to save him for a little later.

Moving on he passed cage after cage, most only housing one occupant but with several closer to the back holding upwards of three. There wasn't nearly enough room to house all his guests apart but Rian made due with the space he had. His guests who were housed in the first few cages were the ones he needed to hold off on; they were all the ones he believed would provide the longest and most interesting entertainment. Of course there were still more guests for him to collect afterwards, when the numbers he had dwindled Rian would make a note to go out and gather the second batch, and perhaps a third if he could manage it.

Pursing his lips Rian began to whistle happily as he moved on, glancing both left and right as he walked. Every guest could be addressed by name, could be described with little ease, and every time Rian could picture them laying on that cold metal bed in the main room he smiled as ideas filled his head. The expectation and foreplay he pictured… it was nearly enough to undo Rian right then and there and he would be forced to hold off yet another day.

No! Rian wanted to start today. He did not want to hold off a second longer. Stomping hurriedly down to the final cage on the right he threw open the barred door. With only a quick glance at the four occupants Rian chose one and hauled them out, dragging their body down the hallway with some ease – as they were still paralyzed by his drug and unable to protest – and strapped them to the table. None of his other guests vocally protested, no one was able to do anything but stare with half vacant eyes and await their own turn. The door closed of its own accord, cutting his guests off from seeing and hearing what Rian was about to do, though he had made no secret of it.

A final adjustment to the straps, an added injection of paralytic to ensure they couldn't move but were fully aware, Rian stepped to the L-shaped table and picked up his first tool.

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**Who all do you want to see tortured first? You have free reign to decide – just leave me a review or send me a pm.**


	2. Killua

**Thanks to_ Tsukkiishima_ for being the first to review. This chapter's for you.**

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_Killua_

Securely strapped down on the table before Rian was a silver haired boy of roughly thirteen years, his light violet eyes were half-hooded and dead looking - giving off a sense that he could take whatever Rian would throw at him without a sound. Of course that was a look Rian enjoyed breaking. There was no doubt in his mind that Killua would not be easy, but then again there were no plans for his immediate death either. No, Rian had hit upon a brilliant idea that could break two guests in an instant… But first –

Rian approached Killua's left side. The older man towered over the younger but still no response was seen in his guest's eyes. With careful movements Rian slowly clipped away Killua's white t-shirt. Removing the first completely from the ex-assassin's torso, Rian proceeded to do the same with the navy colored long sleeved shirt before stepping back with a smile. Killua's chest and stomach showed deep, silver scars from prior abuse and all Rian wanted to do in that moment was trace over every one, reopening them all with his own tools until Killua was squirming beneath him in blood and pain…

Rian would get to that later, much later, if he didn't break Killua before then.

Re-approaching the young teen Rian forced his hands away from the tempting scars and removed Killua's shorts and boxers with the same meticulous movements. When all clothing was stripped away, excluding the silver haired boy's socks and sneakers, and puddled randomly on the floor nearby, Rian stepped away to view Killua in his entirety.

Deep, penetrating scars were found across his skin, mapping out his childhood and all the training he had withstood. Killua's body was a mastery of honed and strengthened muscles that could pierce through to a heart or pull apart a human body like tissue paper. Rian's tongue slowly ran over his bottom lip as his nimble fingers traced up from Killua's ankle, over his shin, dipping under his kneecap, and coming to rest against his inner thigh. He had felt every scar, every bump and dip in the boy's strong leg. And all throughout his personal inspection Killua's eyes had remained like those of a soulless being. Nothing of panic or terror, nothing to hint at a weakness Rian could happily exploit, not that Rian had deluded himself into thinking he would find one so easily. Rian would enjoy his time with Killua and when he grew bored… well that was a surprise for later wasn't it?

Stepping away before he lost himself in exploring all those delicious scars Rian returned to his table of toys and tools. Glancing over everything but once he decided to begin with a classic. Plucking a pair of gleaming needle nose pliers Rian raised them for Killua to see. A small spark of recognition before it was buried urged Rian on. Touching the back of Killua's left hand, Rian kindly picked it up and used the tips of his own fingers to discover a path until he was grasping only the boy's thumb. No warning was given, no threats that if Killua begged or screamed that this would end faster were said – they both understood they would be falsehoods anyway – before Rian swiftly tore off Killua's thumbnail.

Blood coated the freshly exposed sensitive flesh, dripping onto the sterile surface before Rian moved on. He dispassionately stripped Killua of every finger- and toenail the boy possessed with no reaction from the ex-assassin.

Rian swept the torn nails onto the floor, smearing some of the blood across the metal surface before they reformed into perfect red beads. Taking the time to rub the blood off of his hands before he continued, Rian picked up an unusually long razorblade. The sharply thinned metal was close to four inches in length, designed specifically to cut into flesh with the same precision as a surgical scalpel.

_Now,_ Rian thought to himself as he trailed the razor over Killua's tight skin without pressure – a thin line of red beading up from where the skin was effortlessly sliced apart. He stopped when he reached Killua's left knee and instead backtracked down to the silver haired kid's ankle. Pursing his lips Rian released the razorblade so it clattered beside the boy's foot and proceeded to strip Killua of both socks and sneakers. Finally, there were no more barriers and Rian knew precisely where he wanted to start.

Killua, with his dead looking eyes, would have been fine entertainment but there were still many other guests. If Rian rushed the first few who would even mind? He had plenty to choose from, and Killua was considerably younger than Rian would have preferred. He liked his guests reasonably closer to his own age, older if he could manage to obtain them, for there was no relishing in the power of control over a younger guest.

Humming to himself Rian once more grabbed the razor and positioned himself so he squarely faced the rough soles of Killua's feet.

* * *

Killua, trapped in his body that was utterly paralyzed, was exploring his own thoughts as Rian took his time. The thought of being tortured and killed didn't appeal to the ex-assassin in the slightest but he was not afraid. He had been born and trained in every aspect of the underworld; there was nothing the brunette could do to him that his own family hadn't already done – short of dismembering him that is. Schooling his thoughts so when the pain started he didn't react, exactly as he had been taught, Killua could not help but wonder at Rian's plans. There was no obvious reason to torture the silver haired Zoldyck heir, asides from Rian being a sadistic creep worse than Hisoka, but other alternatives did enter his mind. Information, as an example, was always a main motivator when someone tortured another. Greed, power, frustration or anger… All of those were reasons someone had tortured Killua in the past, but none of those seemed to be Rian's motivator for this…

Could he really be a worst sadist than Hisoka or his brother Illumi? Killua repressed his urge to swallow at the thought. If it was true this situation would be ending very badly for the ex-assassin.

Pain spiked up from the sole of Killua's left foot as Rian cut horizontally into it; the injury running parallel to his toes. Looking as far down his body as he could, Killua saw the flatness in Rian's eyes. Nothing was there; no joy, no anger, no emotions at all. It was the look of the dead… it was far more impersonal than Killua had ever seen. Was the silver haired boy even seen as a breathing creature?

Watching at the same time as supressing his reactions, Killua did not have a good view of all that Rian was doing – but he could feel it. The long razorblade was slowly being scrapped along the bottom of his foot, the first few layers of skin being taken off with slow precision. Killua was being skinned alive! A normal reaction would have been to immediately panic, but as Killua's normal reaction was different to most things instead of an instant build-up of panic his thoughts remained calm; shock was there but he remained calm. Not even his breathing changed. It was something Killua had no experience with, never had the Zoldycks thought to prepare one of their own for the eventuality. Modern torture did not including skinning people alive – it was an old technique that had not been used in hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

As all this went through the young boy's mind there was also a note of respect. Raised in a torturer's environment Killua had been raised to appreciate the fine art, even if he grudgingly admitted it. For someone, whom Killua assumed was raised in a "typical" environment, to strike upon this was… creative.

* * *

Absorbed so deeply into his thoughts Killua had neglected to notice the progress Rian had made; the sole of his foot was completely scrapped away and replaced with a coating of ruby blood. Rian smiled as the blood was forced down by gravity. It would become increasingly trickier the less skin and more blood there was; Rian didn't want to leave even the smallest piece on Killua. The boy would be painted red in his own blood and courtesy of his own body… Rian's tongue snaked out again to wet his lips as a strong mental image of the finished product came to mind. He had to dislodge the image or be forced to take a break. The free moving brunette walked around the corner of the table to gain a better view of Killua's foot as it would be difficult to skin the toes but Rian would do it, no matter how long it would take him.

Leaning closer, Rian set the thin blade against the side of Killua's foot and began to cut it away, pulling at the skin occasionally to see if he could peel it off; like you would a scab or dry skin. Of course what Rian had not thought of was how was he going to skin Killua's back? The boy was strapped down and paralyzed but what would happen come the time to flip him over? The question, as well as finding the solution, was important enough to pull Rian away. The whole of Killua's left foot was now skinned, making the limb appear as though it was wearing a red sock that dripped onto the metallic surface below. Cupping his right cheek in thought Rian pondered that there had to be a solution to this. Allowing his dark eyes to roam over the hospital-level sterile room they stopped once they landed on the iron rings on the far wall. Those could work…

With a happy spring in his step Rian made his way to the extra storage room and returned seconds later carrying a pair of iron shackles attached by a long chain. If he hung Killua up _now_ there would be no need to do so _later_, allowing Rian to work uninterrupted. Oh that made the man smile!

Not a movement was wasted as Rian unbuckled Killua, carried him over to the wall with the rings, and hung him there. The shackles were a little loose around the wrist, meant to hold someone closer to Rian's size, but were still capable of restraining the ex-assassin's movements.

"Maybe I should give you another dose…" Killua's chin was held between the thumb and index finger of Rian's left hand. It forced the silver haired boy to look in to the brunette's eyes, revealing the dead look in the former and the unhidden glee of the latter. "… but you won't give me any trouble now will you? That's a good boy." With a couple of pats to Killua's cheek Rian moved away to reclaim the razorblade.

For the next few hours Rian had utter focus on the process of skinning Killua, peeling the thin layers of skin to reveal the pinkish flesh beneath. It wasn't deep enough to damage muscles, if nothing else it could be described as when you scrape a knee or an elbow – a few layers of skin gone and a scab would form overnight…

Laughter rocked Rian's shoulders at the thought. His hand shook with glee and he was forced to stop, lest he screw up. What a wonderful thought! Skin the boy, let it repair itself and come the 'morrow peal it away again! Rian could spend endless days like that – keeping Killua alive, letting the boy witness the torture of Rian's other guests, and still keeping him in pain! Yes, yes! Wonderful, wonderful! The plan was so gratifying that Rian lost all interest in skinning Killua any more at the moment, he had reached mid-thigh on both legs so it was perfectly fine to stop. Killua had made no resistance, though the puddle of the blood beneath his dangling feet may have helped to keep the protests and struggles to a minimum. Blood loss was really quite handy when torturing someone, unless they lost too much and ended up dying prematurely – that always put a damper on Rian's mood.

"But you won't die of blood loss on me. You're a fine guest. A strong guest. A _long lasting_ guest, isn't that right?" Peering into Killua's cold blue eyes Rian swiped the bloodied razor across his jeans to clean it, leaving two bloodied streaks behind, and returned to the L-shaped table of tools. With such a brilliant idea, and the stimulation of just _thinking_ of the pleasure an audience could bring to him, Rian felt little need to continue physically abusing the boy. He was free to return to doing so at any time, so why rush?

However, there _was_ one thing Rian would do before he escorted his next guest out…

Picking up another thin blade, this one resembling a hilt-less stiletto dagger, Rian returned to Killua and carved his signature in the boy's inner right wrist. It was just a small capital cursive _R_ without the straight line… some might even confuse it with a capital cursive _Q_. Puncturing the vein one or twice provided quite a bit of blood to trail down Killua's arm, pooling in his elbow before trickling lower. Now that was a temptation Rian would never resist. He licked at Killua's inner elbow, lapping up the blood as though it was the nectar of the Gods.

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Killua flinched at the feeling of warm, wet breath against his skin. It was disgusting to him, that someone would want to taste blood. The boy was familiar with the metallic, pungent taste but he had never liked it – had never liked anything to do with the red substance. It was meant to stay _inside_ a person. It was why Killua had been unable to continue in the family business. Having so much blood on his hands sickened the boy to the point he was almost physically ill after every assignment. Feeling the slick liquid and the squishy, malleable flesh between his fingers and scraping it out from beneath his finger nails…

Even those thoughts were turning the young Zoldyck's stomach, and still Rian's tongue licked at his elbow.

A breathy chortle came from Rian's lips as he finally pulled away to look aside at Killua's face. He was sure the features reflected his disgust, the one emotion Killua had never been able to masterfully hide. It was a powerful emotion.

"Come now my young guest, don't you like to taste your own blood? Maybe I should bleed that black haired boy, Gon, and make you drink it!" Rian's hands clapped together as he straightened completely, "Or what if I make a concoction from your brothers' blood? How would it taste if I mix Illumi's and Alluka's blood? Would you enjoy it I wonder?"

"…ick," Killua tried to spit out but his parched throat managed only the last syllable.

"Pardon me? Ick?" Rian's face crumpled in disproval.

"Yu… re… s-sick." The ex-assassin's voice was low and hoarse; a practically inaudible whisper if there was such a thing.

"Now what an ungrateful guest you are. I don't think I want to entertain you anymore," Rian's voice took on the tone like that of a pouting child, "but I _do_ still need you alive for later. Oh well, I'm sure you are comfortable hanging there so I'll leave you be. Maybe my next entertainment should be that boy Gon." An evil smirk blossomed on Rian's face as he saw Killua's head jerk up, venom spewing from those beautiful blue eyes… Rian would have to remember to preserve those later, maybe he would make a collection of eyes since he had so many guests with such beautiful eyes. And those scarlet eyes were supposed to fetch quite a price in the underworld, weren't they?

"Don… t… tou… ch… Gon."

"Hmm I don't think I understood that. But it doesn't matter anyways. You have no say in what I do. No power to protect yourself _or_ your friend, so just hang there like a good wall flower you know you are at parties and leave me to my fun." Rian turned on his heel and strutted to the room holding his other guests. He wasn't really going to get Gon; he wasn't going to end his fun so soon. Nope, Killua would have to wait and wonder when it would finally be Gon's turn.

So… now the question came to who would be next? Rian already had an idea in mind and all it took was thirteen steps in to reach the cell where the women were kept. There weren't very many were there? He would have to try and space them out if Rian was to enjoy torturing their bodies.

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**Took longer than I though to write and not as long as I wanted, but it does the job of linking chapters together so I ain't complaining (much). **


	3. Machi

**This is for _Thehisokalover_. Thank you for the reviews and sorry it took so long. Hopefully the length makes up for the wait. **

**Ah, and though she may not want me to say this, _Ria D'Arcy_ thank you for some of the inspiration - sorry I was always bugging you while you were sleeping. Haha.**

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_Machi_

Pulling the pinkette up from her slumped over position in the back corner of the cell it took Rian little effort to throw one of the kunoichi's thin arms around his neck to drag her along beside him. It struck Rian as a little funny that none of his guests seemed to be stirring… surely the paralytic was beginning to wear off on at least _one_ of them? He peered over his shoulder just as the barred door clanged back into place. None of them looked up at Rian and Machi, not even a twitch or the flicker of someone's eye. _Hmm…_ A little jostling of the woman's body so they could fit through the door and they were in the main room, back where Killua was. As Rian deposited the pinkette's body against the metal table, once more she was slumping as though there was not a single bone in her body, he stopped and looked closer. Machi's chest was marginally rising and falling as she breathed in and out, the effect so poor that had Rian been standing any farther away he would have taken her for dead.

It would be no fun if she wasn't the tiniest bit responsive. This guest was totally out of it… was this the effect the paralytic had on her? Tapping a finger to his chin Rian felt his good mood dropping away like a fly near the end of its life. Dark eyes slid to lock with blue. Killua was staring at him. An audience without a show...

Rian paced away from the table, going towards Killua, but abruptly stopping halfway and returning to the collapsed woman, pacing circle after circle as he thought. Perhaps it was getting too late for this kind of entertainment, Rian thought to himself as he once more paced away from the kunoichi. But was he really going to stop so soon? He had hoped to work on more than just one guest today… and tomorrow's time would be limited as there were other obligations to meet. He sighed and went for the stairs that would carry him out of the room; a quick peek at the time, since there was a no clock in the basement, and then Rian would decide to continue or stop.

For the moment Machi was fine where she was, he would return in too little time for her to attempt an escape. Though that didn't mean it was totally safe to leave her free like that, so just as a precaution Rian buckled one of the restraints around Machi's wrist, the limb hanging limp and cold in his grasp.

Straightening with a smile Rian could not help but add, "Now don't go anywhere you~" as he leisurely ascended the stairs.

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Honey eyes fluttered briefly as the sound of a door slamming closed somewhere registered in the kunoichi's mind. Her body felt weighted down, nothing wanted to respond and her head was throbbing, a parched throat and disorientation completed how Machi was feeling. With a choked groan she tried to move, and settled with just discovering what could be moved and what couldn't. Nothing seemed to be injured, but how had she ended up in…

Focusing on her surroundings for the first time Machi could not even hazard a guess as to where she currently was. White walls, white tiles, everything felt cold and lifeless…

"_Oi…"_ The muttered call brought Machi's gaze around. It landed on the dangling body of the silver haired kid her troupe had once captured… one of the brats that dumbass Nobunaga had wanted to recruit. The pinkette calmly took in the boy's shackled hands which kept him from touching the floor, a gracious amount of blood dripping from every portion of his skinless legs and collecting on the tiles beneath. She felt no scrape of sympathy for the boy… his eyes tried not to show the pain he must in fact be feeling. _He's just putting up a brave front_, Machi thought as the boy made to speak again, the movements of his torso with the indrawn breath jostling his body and a deep flash of pain soaked into the blue of his eyes before he could mask it. More blood dripped and the steady drops made a faint yet noticeable sound throughout the room, the proverbial pin drop.

Locking her stare with Killua's Machi waited to see if he would speak again, after all he may have some brilliant idea on how she could end up just like him… there was nothing else she could do at the moment anyways. No matter what Machi tried the most she could move was her head, and that was a great effort. Perhaps if she had more feeling in her arms she could think of a way to break free. After all if the kunouchi had been in better condition (not even _perfect_ condition, just _better_ than what she was in now) she would have had no trouble breaking any restraint. So to be unable to move and held captive by one measly cuff about her right wrist was a great dent in Machi's pride.

"_Hey!"_ The boy again, another flinch of pain, this time enough so that he had to close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing before he continued, _"Can you move?"_

Machi tried to retort but no sound left her throat, just a soft gust of air. If she could have spoken it would only have been a sarcastic retort, the equivalent of; _I can but I'm not because I would just _love_ to know what it feels like to end up like you._

Suddenly moving his blue eyes away from the pinkette, looking at the bloodied tiles beneath him, it took Machi a second longer to realize what he had; Rian had returned. The door atop the stairs had opened; a tiny squeak of the hinges the only evidence until the distinctive sound of a lock turning registered. Oh goodie, Machi wanted to roll her eyes.

With a clap of his hands Rian halted on the final step, looking giddily between the young boy and older woman. There was not much time for fun, the time nearing one in the morning (apparently skinning someone had taken Rian longer than he had anticipated but that did not really matter) and before he grew exhausted there was at least one thing he wanted to accomplish with the woman. Producing from his pocket an amateur's sewing kit the brunette reigned himself in, preventing himself from dashing across the space to rejoin the kunoichi. She was watching him as wearily as she could, brain spinning in circles trying to understand what he could possibly be thinking of doing. The only answer which came to mind was being jabbed, repeatedly, by the needle but that seemed…

"I do hope you'll forgive my skills, sewing isn't exactly my thing but I doubt I could convince you to help me." The smile gracing Rian's lips spelled that he was all too happy to do the deed himself. Without bothering to release Machi's wrist he easily flipped her onto the table, securing her legs and other arm before stepping back with a thoughtful hum. The kunoichi was pinned down on her stomach, adding to her uneasiness, and though she tried to shift all she could see was the brunette's shadow as he walked around her and two doors set into the white wall. The sound and feeling of the uwagi being pulled from her body sent warning signals to Machi's brain but they were interrupted when her chest bindings started to be cut. Panic signals flared, and finally the pinkette managed to draw in a more normal breath though she still could not seem to make her limbs move in accordance to her will.

Hot fingers trailed from the tops of Machi's shoulders down to just above her ass, her skin feeling as though it was burning from Rian's touch. He pulled them away satisfied that his guest would become a lovely canvas; he would have to do her justice would he not?

The needle was easily threaded on the first attempt and Rian hunched over the kunoichi's body ready to begin, before pausing as he thought of what exactly he wanted to create. The first step would be to establish a nice border. Pinching the skin of Machi's back Rian had to rethink his strategy when he couldn't hold it, so instead he went with pressing on the skin to stretch it taut.

Smoothly pushing the silver pin through skin, tugging when the thread did not follow as nicely, Rian began to stitch a black border into the woman's back. As the thread was repeatedly strung beneath her skin, sometimes pulled so the layers were pinched and he was forced to loosen it lest the picture look awkward, Rian began to see blood smears appear wherever the lax string rested. Spirals of red, straight and curved lines, too soon it coated the kunoichi's back the more complete the border, a solid black rectangle, came to being completed.

* * *

Throughout the session, every tug of skin and bloody _plop_ of the string against her back, Machi could feel it all but could not react physically. There was not a great deal of pain, but the repetitive motions and the knowledge of what was being done to her with no way of stopping or hindering it... Honey colored eyes glazed over; the best she could do was endure it and so, without meaning too, the kunoichi had involuntarily counted the number of stitches. Every time Rian's fingers dug deeper to prevent her skin from moving, feeling the needle puncture her skin – twice for each completed stitch – and the sensation of thread running below the surface, across her muscles as it soaked up blood, Machi counted. Unconsciously her breathing synced, alternately inhaling and exhaling as a stitch was completed, and soon the pinkette found her mind drifting. It was a lull between consciousness and unconsciousness.

With full knowledge of the situation Machi was hesitant to admit to herself that is was oddly soothing. She had been expecting so much worse… This, in comparison, was mild and nearly welcomed. Her life had been filled with harshness; growing up in a place that was not supposed to exist, living in garbage, eventually coming to accept she had been discarded like all the other trash, and then becoming a highly sought after thief. Not a moment in her life had the kuniochi been allowed to relax, there always being a threat against her life or her livelihood in some way, and now…

Machi's eyes slowly shut.

* * *

Tying a final knot in the thread, Rian leaned down to bite the excess off. He had noticed his guest had relaxed earlier, and now with his ears so close to her he heard the soft snore coming from the pinkette. She had fallen asleep… Straightening in shock Rian couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. This was certainly a new development. Though the more he thought about it the more it should have been expected.

He shrugged and turned to Killua. Most of the blood had stopped dripping by now, leaving the ex-assassin's pale complexion even translucent. It was like Rian had chained up a ghost. Leaning in closer to stare into the half closed orbs of the young teen, who seemed too weak to respond, the brunette decided it was late. Too late to continue his fun.

A yawn escaped from Rian, confirming his thoughts. It wasn't a bad idea to stop now either. With one guest asleep, one guest unresponsive, and him tired, he could just start up again tomorrow. Besides, a night to think up new ideas would be appreciated. Maybe not by his guests, but Rian would certainly enjoy himself more.

As he climbed the stairs, Rian had a single thought…

_Perhaps I will try my hand at stitching… maybe try to reattach a limb or two…_

* * *

Killua was abruptly brought awake by a shrill cry so close to him. The source came from the middle of the room, originating from the kunoichi still strapped to the sterile table. Only now the table was laced with red. Blood was spurting from the right side of the woman's chest, where atomically speaking an arm should have been attached. He blinked to clear his vision, cursing the fact that he was still chained up and unable to rub his eyes, but no matter how many times he tried to see something different the image before him remained the same.

Rian was standing on the short side of table where the pinkette's head lay, crimson splashed across his bare chest and the left side of his face from being unable to avoid the initial spray and holding a bloodied axe in his hands. The pinkette's missing arm, Killua saw once he could pry his eyes away from the scene, was laying on the floor, blood flowing out of the limb to disappear down the floor drain. Just because he had grown up in a family of assassins and could rip a heart from a chest cavity without batting an eye did not mean Killua was accustomed to seeing freshly amputated limbs. The sight before him made the ex-assassin retch.

The sounds the younger boy made drew Rian's attention. The brunette walked around the left side of the table, axe still grasped in one hand, and stopped before Killua. The puddle of vomit stood between the two and Rian used the top of the axe's handle to lift the other's head. Blue eyes betrayed horror and fear, mouth hanging open with remnants of bile dripping down his chin.

Rian cheerily bade Killua, "Good morning," with an overtly happy smile. "Terribly sorry for the unwanted wakeup call but, seeing as I have things to do today, I thought an early start was in order. Hope you enjoy this morning's programming. I think it will be a stitch." Turning away to set the axe down on the L-shaped table before re-approaching the marginally less heavily bleeding woman, Killua could not turn his head away in time to avoid seeing the next item Rian picked up. Slamming his eyes closed the ex-assassin wished he could so easily close his nose and ears as well. As it was he had no choice but to listen as Machi's flesh was burned, the wound sealed closed with the stench of quickly seared fat and muscle.

Agonized cries came from the pinkette but they only seemed to affect Killua, twisting up his stomach to the point where he could throw up at any second again, while Rian continued his psychotic fun.

* * *

Once the wound was cauterized Rian bent to pick up the severed arm, examining it before tucking it beneath his own and walking to the L-shaped table. He tossed the limb down and searched the slightly disorganized mess on the top for what he wanted; needle and thread. The whole point was not for them to stay alive, so why cover himself in blood needlessly? It wasn't as though she could reclaim the limb back – Rian would need real medical training for that. All he knew was rudimentary knowledge at best. However, they say the greatest way to gain experience is through practice.

* * *

Once Rian bit off the last thread, making nearly thirty stiches in all to keep the arm where it was supposed to sit, he straightened. Running both hands through messy brown hair he smiled contently albeit a tad wearily. He hadn't been kidding with the ex-assassin when he had said he was getting an early start; it was only now reaching the first rays of dawn outside.

In the course of an hour Rian had chopped off the kunoichi's arms and reattached them. His stiches were sloppier than the ones on her back, the ones that created a beautifully gruesome outline. He couldn't wait to complete it soon. Alas he was out of time, but the chances of the pinkette surviving until his return tonight…

Crouching so he was looking evenly into Machi's eyes, Rian wore a smile that was on the edge of predatory and he spoke with a lilt of regret, "My dear this is where I bid you adieu. My fun with you ends here, though if you happen to survive until my return I do promise you more," he brushed some sweat drenched hair off her face, "gentler attention." Rian laid a kiss on Machi's forehead, feeling the feverish skin. Her eyes were rolling deliriously in her head, probably unable to focus or understand a word he spoke. Rian sighed. He knew these symptoms were attributed to the heavy blood loss and the infections setting in from her reattached arms.

Joy-lighted eyes went stark and flat and Rian turned away as though when might from an obviously broken toy. It may not be the death he had planned, but life had a funny way of interfering with all his carefully prepared ideas.

Perhaps before he started on his next guest he would ensure he had the time to spend on them. That meant working overtime for the next little while…

"Hmm," Rian hummed as he strolled past the limply hanging ex-assassin. The boy hadn't raised his head or opened his eyes since the first arm had come off, pity.

* * *

As Rian had predicted, by the time he returned to white sterile room below the earth's surface the kunoichi's body was long cold. Blood seeped a little from between the stitched skin on her left arm; apparently Rian hadn't burned the wound all the way closed. He would need to pay more attention to that next time.

Unchaining the corpse Rian took hold of the ankles and dragged the body away. He didn't have a distinct way of disposing of the dead. For now it would just be thrown back into the cell he had originally taken it from, and on his way out he would pick out a new guest.

Opening the door to the room housing his guests Rian remembered it was near time for them to be fed and most likely another dose of paralyzer. He really did not enjoy thinking any of them could attempt an escape now.

* * *

**Reminder: reviews are what keep this story progressing. Who should be tortured next?**


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